For Her Son
by Cheeky Slytherin Lass
Summary: Rosannah Crouch loves her son so much. Even if she dies in Azkaban, she dies knowing that he has a second chance.


_For the Hogwarts Forum_

 _Assignment 4: History of Muggles, task 5b- Write a story set in prison/Azkaban_

 _Roald Dahl Event: Three Line Whips: Setting: Azkaban_

 _Word Count: 733_

* * *

Rosannah Crouch lets out a pitiful groan as the first jolt of pain grips her body. She presses the back of her hand to her mouth, biting down on her knuckles to keep from screaming. The pain seems to burrow beneath her skin, finding home in her bones.

In spite of it all, she smiles. She know she doesn't have long left.

" _Mother, you can't be serious," Barty says, shaking his head, his matted straw-colored thudding against his face. "Father…"_

 _But Bartemius says nothing. Rosannah isn't surprised. He hadn't wanted to come here at all._

 _Rosannah tugs at her auburn braid, thin lips pulled into a faint smile. "I'm dying, Barty," she whispers. "Let me die knowing I protected my boy."_

Rosannah lifts her hand. It's still Barty's. It's a bit wider than her on hand, and the palm is more square. The Polyjuice Potion seems to be holding, but she is afraid she will not be able drink at the end.

Her hand sweeps blindly in the darkness until she finds the vial and retrieves it from her little hiding place. Rosannah lifts it, searching for even the faintest sliver of light.

There is only a few mouthfuls left. At the very least, it would last her another week. Still, she knows that won't be necessary. If she survives the night, she'll be surprised.

 _She brushes a trembling hand through her son's hair, tears clinging to her lashes. This will be the last time she ever sees his sweet, freckled face. Rosannah only wishes she could have more time._

" _You'll take care of him?" she asks her husband._

 _The older man remains silent. The only change is a faint hint of tension in his jaw. Rosannah has to believe that it's his way of confirming._

" _Mother," Barty whispers, lifting his vial. "Thank you."_

 _She presses the vial to her lips._

Rosannah swirls the chestnut contents around the vial, her stomach churning. She winces. Now is not the time for her body to shut down and betray her. If she can't manage it, if she is found in her son's place because the potion has worn off, her precious Barty will be in terrible danger.

She takes a deep sip. Her insides react immediately. Rosannah feels her stomach bubbles and twist itself into knots. Within seconds, stomach acid burns her throat as her body tries to reject the potion.

Hands clasped tightly over her mouth, she sinks onto the cold, damp floor of her cell. She wants so badly to throw up, but her love for her son and her determination to keep him safe help her overcome it somehow.

Rosannah leans her head back, her breathing ragged. The stone wall scrapes against her skin, but she doesn't bother to change position. Why should it matter when she knows she doesn't have long left?

 _It's unnerving seeing herself staring back. Rosannah shakes her head, almost expecting the other to mirror the movement._

" _Barty," she says, eyes widening at the deeper tone of her voice- her son's voice._

 _She wants to say more, but Bartemius stands suddenly, grabbing Barty by the shoulder. "It's time to go," he says curtly, his eyes meeting Rosannah's and holding her gaze for a moment. She can practically hear his unspoken pleading._

" _Mother," Barty says in Rosannah's soft, bell-like voice. "I love you."_

"I love you, Mother," she says.

She knows that she is the one who speaks those words, but she can imagine. It's Barty's voice. She can pretend that her son is in this cold, cramped cell, that he is keeping her safe in her final moments.

Hand trembling, she smashes the vial, destroying the last trace of evidence that could cause trouble for her dear boy. Rosannah brushes the shards to the side, ignoring the sharp pain when little fragments stick into her skin. She stretches out on the floor, ignoring the sour smell of mold and the cacophony as the other prisoners shriek and cry; there will be no peaceful final moments, she realizes.

"It's going to be okay, Mother," she says. "You won't hurt anymore."

She feels the temperature drop as the Dementors glide closer. Rosannah grips herself in tight hug, but it isn't enough to shake the chill that bites into her bones.

"I love you, Mother," she tells herself, her heart breaking. "I love you. I love-"

And everything fades to black.


End file.
